...That's the difference between backpackers and holiday makers. The former can't help but invite hassle whilst the latter pay to escape it.

Driving down deserted early morning roads. Round and round. Round downtown. Through naked streets. Lips pursed on two litre bottles of beer, but pursuing the lips of freedom's night. Swapping cars. Winding up at karaoke bars or Bolsi- the best place in town. For the food. For the folk. For the service. For the crema de papaya. And for that late night dawn's whiskey coffee.

Meandering cows, tenacious bicyclers, belching taxis, rickshaws, fearless pedestrians and the occasional mobile ‘cigarette and sweets’ stand all fought our taxi for room on the narrow two-lane road turned local byway.

He regarded himself as an accomplished writer — a clear sign of madness in anyone.

The world isn't built with a ramp.

. . . it's part of the adventure!